


Steve drunk? IMPOSSIBLE

by colt



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colt/pseuds/colt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets drunk. That's it. That's all that happens. Literally nothing else. Don't expect much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve drunk? IMPOSSIBLE

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only posting this as an incentive for continuing it-ignore me.

“You’re a mess.” Steve muttered into the knot of his tie while he stumbled through the crowd of elites. The lot of them were gathered for Tony Stark and his ethical energy business, or to be swooned into joining his ethical energy business, or to hand over cash in support of his ethical energy business. Bruce had declared one of those to be the reasons early on in the night, but Steve could barely understand where the glasses in his hand kept coming from, much less anything Bruce told him about motivations and persuasion. He was awash with the high class, whom the only thing he had in common with was the champagne running down his throat. So yeah, he used it as a clutch. If downing drinks was his only scapegoat, he would damn sure use it. Second of all, he couldn’t even get drunk, or buzzed, or smashed. Even at this rate, at the average twelve glasses of champagne, four complementary doubles on the rocks, a beer here and there, per hour, for the four hours this thing has tautly stretched into, he was sober as a bell. “Right?” he asked Bruce. He thought he asked Bruce. There wasn’t anyone he knew within spitting distance, and man could he spit far. Bruce really had just been here. Steve cranes his neck but there is only a mass of black suits and gowns and feigned laughter. Were these people even trying to sound natural or had they all taken a general consensus to stop pretending, or at least stop pretending to try to pretend? He groaned. It was like the ladies in his time in those nice dresses on the streets trying to flaunt what everyone knew they couldn’t afford. Designer trash bags. He stumbled on his feet, spilling to his left, catching on someones shoulder and spewing out a gaping laugh.  
“Woah there.” Tony gripped at his arm, fixing him right again. He had turned from a group of socialites to do so, and he turned back to flash a quick, appeasing smile. Steve was still swaying, like he was on the deck of a ship in a hurricane, and Tony kind of gave him a shake. “How are ya, Cap?” he held a finger behind him, to the money, requesting a moment.  
Steve climbed towards Tony’s shoulder and leaned into his ear, “I’ve had a lot to drink, but that’s not…?” If Bruce wasn’t here to give him the answers to questions he felt like he should know, but didn’t, Tony would have to do. Tony’s head tilted ever so to the side and he gave Steve a once over, “Well, you seem plastered. And trust me, I know plastered.”


End file.
